The Scrapped Princess
by StrawberryMilkyTea
Summary: The war is over, but hardly so for Calla White-Dragon, half Snow Elf & refugee princess of Summerset Isle. A fugitive of the Thalmor, she's been living peacefully in Skyrim for years. But when tragedy strikes & destroys her spirit, only one man can bring it back.
1. 1 - Insightful Nonsense

**= Scrapped Princess =**

 **[I posted this story years ago, but lost access to that account, so I decided to reupload and complete it on my new one. Please read & review, even if you don't have an account! I love it whenever you guys give me your opinions! Thank yew~~**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skyrim, or anything affiliated with Skyrim. Sadly.**

 **-Saphira]**

 **Chapter 1 – Insightful Nonsense**

The sun peeks over the mountains, tinting the sky with stroke of pink and purple and orange, turning the vast space above us into a water-color masterpiece. I take a deep breath of cool tundra air. An icy chill slides down my throat, into my lungs. It's been three years since I arrived here in my mother's homeland, from Summerset Isle, a refugee princess whose title was stripped away from her for openly speaking out against the Aldmeri Dominion. I have long since grown used to the frigid temperatures of Skyrim, particularly since I spend most of my time journeying across the land.

Just so you understand, my mother was not a Nord. She was one of the last Snow Elves who had not been warped into malicious, blind scavangers.

I still believe it is because I am a half-breed that the Thalmor were able to "scrap" me, taking away my birth right. But that is another story entirely..

Shortly after arriving in Skyrim, I joined up with a band of warriors called the Companions, who base themselves out of an ancient mead hall called Jorvaskr in the city of Whiterun. They opened their home to me, which was more than anyone else did for me here. I worked my way up the ranks, and now I'm happily married to a brave, strong young man named Aiden. He was the already the Harbinger when I joined the Companions, but apparently before him someone people have named the Dragonborn had the title. But he'd decided to take his leave of us for "bigger and better things" as Vilkus had bitterly described it whenever I'd asked.

Apparently, just before I'd run away from Summerset Isle, this Dragonborn character had saved all of Tamriel from absolute destruction by the hand of Alduin, the World-Eater. Boy, the things you miss when you're in hiding, right? Anyway, despite his obvious heroism, the Companions take nothing more serious than loyalty and kinship. And in our eyes, he'd abandoned his Shield-Siblings.

I'm on a job with Farkas right now, and we've been gone for a good two days. My legs ache from the long trek, but it's not my longest run, that's for sure. We set up camp last night along the edge of the stream that cuts through the plains and the water flows clean and cool enough to bathe. Taking the opportunity while Farkas is still sleeping, I undress and carefully set aside my custom-made Ancient Nord armor, along with my sword Shatterglass.

Gritting my teeth against the icy water, I dunk myself beneath it and scrub away the grit on my skin. I use the bar of soap from my rucksack to wash my hair until it's no longer a dirty blond, but back to its pure, silky white-blond curtain. It's refreshing to be clean again. I dress, wake Farkas. He is groggy and uncharacteristically solemn as we eat bread and goat cheese for breakfast.

"What's the matter, Shield-Brother?" I inquire, washing down my food with some cider. Perhaps it's the fog—if so, he should be fine in an hour or two when it clears away. Then again, he usually finds the crisp mornings in Skyrim invigorating. We've just spent a lot of time roaming the hills of the Reach trying to locate an escaped fugitive and do away with her, and the change from such a high altitude must be taking its toll on him.

"Tired. I just want to get home. Sick of sleeping on the ground, is all." he mumbles. I have to agree completely. I pack up my bedroll, finishing off my supply of cheese and bread because I know I won't need any more of it. Whiterun's rooftops peer over the hilltops, and if we stick to the road, we should be back home by midday. Maybe even sooner, if we don't run into any trouble. Which, we usually do.

I strap the bright red glass sword to my hip and shoulder my rucksack, giving Farkas some extra time in his daze-like state to get ready. The road leads straight to Whiterun from here, and I look forward to the easiest part of our journey: The end of it. Aiden had suggested we should take some of the horses with us, but Farkas and I agree that keeping up with a startled horse is a real pain in the hide, and those hills are teeming with monsters and predators that would chase the mounts all over the place. I still firmly believe, despite the throbbing in my over-worked leg muscles, that we avoided a serious headache by making the trip on foot.

"D'youthink Aiden will be surprised to find us back so soon?" Farkas asks, walking in step with me. "I mean, normally these bounty jobs take a while, since the target moves all over the place and we have to take the time to stop, ask for rumors about their locations, and literally track them."

I sigh heavily. Honestly, whether he's surprised or not, it will be nice to finally see him again. I don't particularly like going on jobs like this—that require me to be absent for days—without him. Nor do I care for the ones that take him away from me. But such is our way. It's a hard life, but an honorable one.

"I'm sure he'll be proud, to say the least," I reply, remembering that Farkas cannot hear my thoughts. "I'm ready to tell everyone how we took down those frost trolls! Can you believe how many of them there were? Not to mention that dragon…" I purposely trail off. Farkas is immediately awake and exuberant with relaying the details of the great battles we had together on this trip. I give a small smile. It's hard to brood with him around. He's so like a child with all the wonder he has in him, and it's depressing to see him glum.

At last, when the sun is halfway between rising and setting, we reach the gates of Whiterun. The city is alive with bright-eyed, care-free citizens. They are safe, and content. Why should they not enjoy this beautiful place? The civil war is finally over, the Empire driven out of Skyrim's borders, and High King Ulfric has assumed the throne. There is peace at last.

Well, not _complete_ peace, otherwise we'd be out of business, wouldn't we?

We reach the steps of Jorvaskr and Vilkus, Farkas's lean, tall twin brother, is waiting for us with a huge grin. He doesn't have his brother's muscle, but he's smarter than the brightest of scholars. When I first arrived here, he was certainly not the friendliest type. He was raised to despise elves, but Aiden forced him to mentor me through my weeks as a whelp, and soon he became like a true brother to me.

I return his smile cautiously. "What has you so delighted, Shield-Brother?" I ask, placing my hands on my hips.

"Remember that vampire cult we've been tracking? The ones who've been killing the citizens of Whiterun at night? Well, Aiden's found them at last, holed up in some cave just outside the tundra. He wants to see you." I try my best to keep a smile. Aiden has been trying to find this band of vermin for months, after all.

But I can't help but feel my stomach drop when I hear that he will be leaving just as I arrive home. It's selfish, I know, but I've missed him.

I go inside, relishing in the warmth of the fire that melts the ice from my veins. I don't care what I said before, the cold in this land is bitter and unforgiving, no matter how long you spend in it. Still, its magnificent beauty more than makes up for old, polished boards thump beneath my boots as I walk down the stairs and into the living quarters, Farkas taking his leave of me to have a drink.

It's all I can do not to attack Aiden with an embrace upon seeing him. He laughs as I hug him. "The Riften prison sent word ahead of you and Farkas that they're satisfied with your work and gave a hefty amount of gold for us to keep the criminal's escape quiet. Well done, my love."

I nod into his shoulder, the scent of burnt leather and the musty, sweet scent of snowberries fill my nose as I breathe him in. This scent always calms me. "Thanks, and congradulations. Vilkus informed us that you've located Drekell Blood-Drainer's lot?" I reluctantly step back to look at him.

His face is sharp-featured and handsome, with silver-blue eyes that outshine even the most valuable gems. His overlong dark hair and fair skin reveal his Nord blood, if his height doesn't give it away. I could hardly believe it when I met a Nord who was actually taller than me, even if only by a few inches.

He grins from ear to ear. "I have. They've taken up that old cave—Swindler's Den. Athis, Vilkus, and I are heading out first thing in the morning to go take care of it. I don't think I've ever had so much trouble tracking someone before. But we'll finally put an end to this mess, and avenge all of those lives Drekell has taken."

"I'll be glad when I don't have to watch a funeral procession every day again," I say solemnly. Aiden smiles sympathetically and kisses my forehead.

"You look very worn, dearest. Why don't you join us for dinner and then retire early?" he suggests. It sounds very tempting, so I accept. First, however, I take an actual bath with soap and hot water in the room that Aiden and I share. The smooth, silky fabric of the blue gown laid out on the bed for me when I'm done bathing feels exquisite on my ivory skin. Aiden must've purchased it for me on his recent trip to Solitude.

I'm not much of a dress-wearing woman, but I have to admit it's better than dirty armor. My hair falls straight when it's dry, and I run a brush through it one more time before going upstairs to the hall.

Everyone is already seated and waiting for the lady of the hall—me—to take my seat next to Farkas in the center, where I normally sit with Aiden, but since we've just come back from a prolonged adventure, we're guaranteed this honor so we can relay the tale to our siblings. I eat some ham, and drink some mead. My stomach isn't as ravenous as it normally is after a quest. I may be slender, but I'm toned. And when I get hungry— _I get hungry_.

Still, tonight I let Farkas do all the earnest descriptions, the telling of our journey through the mountains. Several cheers and songs are raised with mugs as he goes on relaying the tale. I stare at the mammoth cheese in my bowl, too deep in thought to revel in our victory. I can't shake the feeling that something horrible awaits us on the horizon.

I've always had the ability to sense whenever an ominous event is about to ensue. It might be my elven blood that gives me these premonitions, or perhaps I've spent too many years playing with magic. I don't know, but of one thing I'm certain: They're always right.

I'll talk to Aiden later about it, I decide. Now it's time to enjoy at least part of this feast. Troubles melt to the back of my mind as I join in the song, grabbing a leg of roast mutton from the center of the table.

"Are you sure you're alright, love? You seem distracted ever since you got back." Aiden turns over to face me. His warmth radiates beneath the coverlet, and suddenly I understand why Nords can live with this climate: Lots of body heat.

"I just have this feeling…" I begin, and he knows exactly what I mean.

"Lily, does this have anything to do with the vampire mission?" I can't help but smile at his nickname for me. Ever since he'd found out my name was Calla, he rarely ever called me by any other name but "Lily". The concern in his tone makes my mood bitter sweet though. "I promise that it's not that dangerous. I'll have two of our best fighters with me."

I sigh. "I know you will. I have every bit of faith that you'll leave Drekell's head on a pike somewhere, but…you know that when I feel this way, nothing good can come of it. The winds hold a big, terrible change for us. I just know it…"

He offers a heart-warming smile. "Please don't worry about it, Lily. All will be well, you'll see." He places his hand on my cheek. I can't help but return his smile, as he makes me feel so secure. I turn over and press my body to his as his arm wraps around my waist. "Goodnight, love," he says to me as I close my eyes. It is only a few moments before sleep takes me.

"Damn! What have you got in here!?" Farkas cries as he drops the wooden chest onto the back of the wagon. I laugh at the spectacle of our strongest member having such difficulty lifting a mere box.

"Easy, Farkas. That chest is full of valuables that will put coin in everyone's pocket for a good while." I say, dropping down from the stone platform I've been standing on. There's a staircase on the other side, but where's the fun in that?

I place a hand on my brow to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight, looking out into the vast, open plains. A herd of mammoths stomps by in the distance, their massive forms nothing but shapes against the towering mountains. Only 8am, and already Farkas and I have discovered and cleared out a bandit fort, taking all their plunder as payment. It's been three days since Vilkus, Athis, and Aiden left out to take care of Drekell's band, and despite my husband's parting words of comfort, it didn't take long until the sense of security they instilled in me melted away with his presence.

 _"Hold down the fort while I'm gone," he says. "I will return to you, Lily. I promise." He grabs my face and forces me to look directly into his eyes as he says this, and I have no choice but to believe him. After kissing me, he turns to leave. "I love you, Lily."_

 _"I love you, too. Do not spare Drekell your blade. You honor us all," I reply, standing alone now at the top of the stairs. He flashes that smile that won my heart, and then he and the others are walking away. I watch them until they are gone, and stand here for much longer afterward. The sun is setting when finally I feel Farkas's hand on my shoulder, inquiring if I need a cloak because it's so cold. I shake my head._

 _"I couldn't feel warmer…"_

I swallow against a knot in my throat, taking my seat at the head of the wagon. "Let's get this back to Whiterun," I say cheerily. Farkas hops onto the rickety seat next to me.

"Yeah, so you can make me haul this stupid trunk all the way up to Jorvaskr." he mutters. I laugh at him and nudge his ribs with my elbow. Jerking the reins once sets the team of horses hitched to our carriage into motion, and I steer them towards the road.

Farkas smiles, when I laugh, which seems to have put him in better spirits. "Be careful around here. Saw a herd of mammoths pass through on the east side earlier, so keep your eyes peeled for giants." he warns, pointing to where I saw the same lumbering mammals not moments ago.

I nod, keeping my mind on the team, trying not to let it wander to the subject I have branded forbidden.

Unfortunately, Farkas has no idea that I'm trying not to think of it, for he says, "I wonder what's taking Aiden and the others so long? They've been gone for almost four days now. Swindler's Den is just on the other side of the tundra, so the journey itself couldn't be taking this long."

Try as I might, I can't keep the anxiousness out of my voice. "I'm sure they're alright. After all, Aiden is a master swordsman." Farkas raises his brows.

"You don't sound very assured about that."

"I'm worried, Farkas. I know I shouldn't be. But I feel as though something bad has happened." I confess desperately. "I'm being selfish…your brother went on this mission, too. I should just keep my mouth shut…"

Farkas surprises me by squeezed my shoulder comfortingly. "They're fine. Probably just got sidetracked. You know how Vilkus is. He's got to clear out every single bandit camp he comes across." His laugh coaxes a smile out of me, at least.

"Yes, yes, you're probably right," I say. "I'm just being a fretting wife."

He chuckles again. "I've never known you to be the type, Calla."

I shrug. "You'd be surprised."

"Aiden will be fine. He can handle himself like the best of them," Farkas reassures me.

"But against a vampire? A whole clan of them?" I press, if only to get my stress out. I don't want to worry Farkas about his brother, but it feels somewhat of a relief to get my woes out to someone else. They were starting to smother each other in my mind.

Now I'm glancing from the road to Farkas every few seconds, waiting on his response. His light eyes seem torn, and I feel guilty for instilling doubt in him.

"You must have more faith in them. Three Companions against a cult of vampires isn't that much of a stretch. You've fought beside all three of them several times, and you know how excellent they are in battle. You've just got to have faith…" he says at last.

My troubled expression gives way to a smile, and I turn back to the road, all of my anxieties done away with. "You're absolutely correct. They're some of the best damn warriors in Tamriel, and I've been a fool to think otherwise. All of this 'premonition' blather is just nonsense. Insightful nonsense," I repeat, trying to believe it.

But no sooner have the words left my mouth when Farkas's brow furrows and he points ahead of us to a sprinting figure. "I think we have company."

I pull the team over to the side of the road, letting the reins rest in the seat as I hop down. My hand goes to the hilt of Shatterglass, but moves away again whenever I catch sight of who approaches. It's the courier, and he's….naked. Well, partially naked. At least he's wearing under garments.

"Um. Did you run into some kind of trouble, citizen?" I ask, trying not to laugh at this poor man's misfortune. He stops running and bends over, panting. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he speaks.

"Don't ask," he looks up at me, standing straight. He's a short man—an Imperial, I think, judging by the shape of his almond eyes. "Are you Calla White-Dragon, wife of Aiden Brave-Heart, Harbinger of the Companions at Jorvaskr?" he asks, reading off of a small piece of parchment he's produced from somewhere on his person, although…I'm not exactly sure where.

"Yes, that's me," I answer carefully. What's going on here?

"It would seem that there's been a terrible accident. I have this letter for your eyes only, miss," he hands me a read envelope with gold swirls gilded around the edges; the Jarl's good parchment. I'd recognize it anywhere. I swallow hard, trying to keep steady.

"What do you mean by 'accident'?" I ask, dreading the answer. The courier gives me a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry for your loss," is all he says before turning around and running back the way he came.

Farkas breaks me out of my daze by shouting, "Calla! What's it say?!" I instantly snap back to reality and tear into the envelope, clawing with my nails to grab at the folded letter inside. All the while, I'm praying to Talos, Akatosh, Dibella, Shor, Kynareth, all of the Divines that it does not say what I fear it says.

The letter falls from my trembling hands, and I stand there for a moment, eyes wide with horror, in complete shock. The parchment hits the dirt and stays there with the shreds of red paper from the envelope which contained it. I can't breathe. Surely this is a nightmare.

"Calla…?" Farkas is cautious this time. Probably scared by my sudden astonished silence. Or maybe it's the look of terror on my face.

"He—he's gone, Farkas," I say in a small voice, not moving my gaze from starting straight ahead of me. I see nothing. Not the sky, not the mountains, nor the beauty of the tundra in spring time. My blood runs cold as the words in the letter ring through my head like an agonizing wail. Then I realize that the wail has come from my lips, not my mind.

I'm on my knees on the ground, clutching my burning stomach. "Drekell killed him…and would've killed the others, too, had he not sacrificed himself." I don't know if Farkas is still here or if he's running back to Whiterun to get help, but I'm still relaying what the message contained aloud, if only to make myself believe it.

"Who sacrificed himself, Calla?" He's still here, and crouching down next to me, sounding more serious than I've ever heard him be. Hot tears swell in my eyes, rolling down my face like lava, singing into my flesh as I look at him. His face is distorted by the water glazing over my sight.

"Aiden!" I cry out in anguish, sobbing. I can see that the loss in Farkas's heart is second only to my own. He shakes his head in disbelief. "No, that's not right. What's the letter really say?"

I frown, still sobbing as I pick up the letter, shove it into Farkas's chest, and shout, "It's all right there! 'The Jarl regrets to inform you, Lady Calla White-Dragon, that your husband lost his life to Drekell Blood-Drainer…'" I can't finish, as I collapse into myself, forgetting to breathe.

Farkas doesn't take the letter so it falls away with my hand, between my fingers. I crumple it into a ball in my palm. "I knew something like this would happen! I knew….Farkas, we have to go get his body. It says that Vilkus and Athis returned this morning to Jorvaskr, and they weren't able to bring Aiden's remains with them. Who knows what that damned leech could be doing to him right now?"

He nods, offering a hand that I ignore. "I cannot go right now," I whisper hoarsely, "Please…go back to Whiterun and bring Vilkus and Torvar with you. We'll need help. I'll wait here…" I'm not making much sense, but he seems to understand.

Like a faithful puppy, he agrees and jumps to his feet, running after the courier. I lay there in the road for what seems like forever, crying so hard that I vomit many times. How could this have happened? I shouldn't have let him leave home with only two men as backup. I should've gone with him, and then I might've had a better chance of saving his life.

The sun is in the middle of the sky by the time I hear hoof beats approach. Vilkus quickly dismounts his horse and drops down beside me. His voice is in my ear. "I am so, so sorry, Calla…"

And that's all I hear before I fall back into him, the world spiraling away in a black tunnel.


	2. 2 - The Mercenary

**Chapter 2 – The Mercenary**

"Before the Ancient Flame," I recite shakily, struggling to keep my voice at a low octave.

"We grieve," the others complete for me.

I take a silent, steadying breath before going on as I stare at him, laid out flat on a wooden pier, decorated with mountain flowers, lavender, and tundra cotton.

"For the fallen,"

"We shout."

At this point, I can't utter another word, and I'm ashamed of myself for it. But Aela takes up for me, placing a hand on my shoulder, and continuing the final farewell in my place. Aiden's pale face is unnaturally still, his eyes closed forever. We send him off to Sovngarde with the same words that have been chanted at every funeral the Skyforge has hosted. Many a mighty warrior have departed on these words.

I must've attended three ceremonies identical to this one. And at that time, the ritual seemed to be enough. But now it does not feel right, not with my husband being the one on the pier. After all he has done for us, this does nothing to honor him in the light he should be.

I approach the forge when all has been said, a torch clutched in my hand. I may not have demonstrated the strength I should have while bidding him farewell, but I'll be damned if I won't show everyone that I am brave enough to send my husband off to eternal glory myself. I light the wooden structure that Eorlund and Torvar have so carefully built, watching bright flames engulf Aiden's body. I see my whitewashed face reflected in his gleaming armor, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.

Taking another deep breath, I will them away. The others disperse, members of the Circle taking to the Underforge.

I place my hand on the stones lining the forge, blowing a soft, silent kiss into the fire. "I love you, Aiden. We will meet again, in Sovngarde. And I promise that Drekell will pay for what he has done."

/.../

"I know that it is difficult to talk about trifle things such as a new Harbinger, with the loss of Aiden still so new and painful.. but we have a duty to keep the Companions together and working for the better of Skyrim. " I face all members of the Circle. Though I refused the blood of the beast when it was offered to me, being the Harbinger's wife gave me immediate membership. "It is tradition for me to step into his place. But please understand.. I am not strong enough lead you. Losing Aiden has been.. so very hard," my voice hitches, and I muffle a light sob. Damn it! I need to hold it together..

Vilkas, Aela, and Farkas all give me empathetic looks, waiting for me to continue. "I am not abandoning you. You are my family. But I just need some time. Time to process, and heal."

Vilkas steps forward, placing his hand on my shoulder in comfort. "We understand, Calla. And I know you would never turn your back on us." He squeezes reassuringly. "Take all the time you need, okay? And when you are ready to return home, Jorvaskr will be waiting."

Words cannot express my gratitude. I nod, allowing the tears at last to fall. "In my absence, Vilkas, will you serve as Harbinger?" Quite honestly, there is no one else I trust as much as him. Not now..

Releasing my shoulder, Vilkas wraps me in a reassuring embrace. "I would be honored."

"Of course I'll spread the word, Calla," Ysolda assures me as she accepts the folded parchment that bears my signature, a request for services, and promise of reward. "People are always coming through looking for work. I'm sure it won't be difficult to find someone willing to help, especially if there's gold involved." With this, she begins cleaning the bar counter with a warm, soapy rag. I watch her use her free hand to slide the parchment into her apron pocket, where it joins several other documents - some frayed, others pristine. I can only hope that the insurance of five hundred septims will be enough to entice at least one of the mercernaries running amuck around Skyrim.

Before my brothers were able to retrieve Aiden's remains, a silmy thief looted his body and made off with his wedding ring. I glance down at my own - a golden band with a flawless sapphire stone. His is the exact opposite; silver and ruby. I cannot stand the thought of some low life pawning the symbol of my union to Aiden, so I have offered payment to anyone willing to reclaim the ring and bring it to me. And as soon as it is back in my posession, I will not be satisfied until I drive Shatterglass through Drekell Blood-Drainer's skull.

Lost amid my blood-soaked desires, I have failed to notice that the stool beside mine is no longer vacant, and I start slightly at the sound of the man's low voice. "You are looking for a sell-sword?" he inquires gruffly, either missing my surprise or ignoring it as he passes me a piece of tattered parchment. Instantly I recognize it; I nailed it to the bench just in front of Eldergleam just hours ago. There is even a torn hole towards the top to prove it, as well as my rushed script requesting service. I glance to the man - he wears a gray hood that covers most of his face in shadow, attached to a long cloak, beneath which is an impressive set of armor made of leather and chainmail. Lightweight, and yet extremely effective. He is a seasoned warrior who has learned from battle, it seems.

There is the ghost of stubble on his pronounced jaw, but other than that I cannot make out any distinguishing features. Nor do I care. He is here, and willing to accept the job. I set aside the parchment and glance at Ysolda - the young tavern owner is occupied with a tray of frothy mead mugs, her small hips sashaying as she bustles about to distribute them among the weary travellers aound the fire. Certain that I will not be heard or interrupted, I turn back to the stranger. "Hunt down this thief, get my ring back, and rid the world of the shit stain that is his existence. Then you will be rewarded." I assure.

He nods and takes the paper back, stowing it away in his cloak before getting to his feet once more and exiting the inn.

Three days pass, and I hear nothing of the hooded stranger. I decide to give him a bit longer to comply before taking my leave of Whiterun, and I am right in doing so - on the fourth day, he returns.

I sit at a back table, tucked in a darkened corner with my evening meal whenever he turns up again. Wordlessly, he takes the seat across from me and sets a small crimson bag on the tabletop. It has golden thread and is adorned with small brass bells like a jester's hat. Curiously, I set my goblet of wine down and glance at him. When he says nothing, I pick up the cloth satchel and open it. My breath catches; inside is Aiden's wedding ring, gleaming as bright as ever. Now that it is safe in my posession once more, I am able to take my first breath of ease since the day before he left me. Closing the bag, I attach it to my belt and replace it on the table with a brown, much less fancy sack of coins. "Your reward." I nod, pushing it towards him. "You will find that it's all there."

Rather than count it, as I expect him to, he merely stows it within his cloak, much like he did with the parchment days prior. Taking a shiny, ruby apple from one of the silver plates laid out in front of him, for the first time he removes his hood. Revealed is a handsome, sharply-featured and chiseled face. He is my age, of around nineteen, and his hair is long and dark. His eyes, however, catch me by surprise. Bright and burnished green, like flawless emeralds. Obviously he is of Nord descent, though he's not quite as tall as Aiden was. Still, he dwarfs me and all of my elfin height; this is clear, as even sitting down he is two heads taller than I.

"Now that I have done your bidding, I've a request of my own to make, Miss White-Dragon." He does not eat the fruit, but rather rolls it between his fingers, tossing it smoothly from hand to hand, as I've seen street magicians do with crystals in Solitude. He smirks devilishly at me, eliciting a strange reaction - I find him both alluring and repulsive. "Or should I say, _your highness_?"

My heart stops, my stomach lurches, and all at once the world comes to a grinding halt. Sapphire eyes widening, I stare at him, my mouth dropping open but saying nothing. It must be a comical sight, but I cannot form words. I cannot _think_. At last, I am able to say something. "How?" How does he know? How did he find out? How am I still sitting here, free as a giant, instead of in Thalmor custody on my way back to Summerset in shackles? How much has he been rewarded for my inevitable capture?

He must read the expression on my face, the many questions forced into this one word. "I haven't turned you in." he assures, soberly. He meets my gaze evenly, the green of a spring field on a sea of crystal blue. He is telling the truth. "Not yet, anyway." Then he smirks again, going about playing with his apple.

There it is.

Black mail.

Scowling, I glare heinously at him. How dare he make demands of me? I employed his help, I paid him well, and this is how he treats me in return? Perhaps it is the sense of honor instilled in me by the Companions, but I find his sleezy methods exceedingly insultuing and equally disturbing. "What do you want?" Surely, if it was as simple as gold, he would have just elevated the price of service - it's not as if I was fighting off bidders to do the job. No, he wants something more. But what exactly, I cannot fathom.

His face gives away nothing but smug satisfaction, and a glimmer of mischeif. "As for 'how', it wasn't difficult to figure out. The leader of the Companions dies, his widow demands justice, and suddenly the spot light is shifted to her. _Where_ did she come from? Why does she not look like the typical High Elf? A bit of digging into your past was all it took to confirm my theory. You _have_ no past, Calla. No documentation of birth, no family. Of course, in Skyrim, that's hardly uncommon. Which makes it the perfect refuge for a runaway princess. Specifically, Princess Aveil Winter, half-snow elf of Summerset Isle."

Well, I wish I could say he was an idiot. But he's figured me out, and there is nothing I can do to respond but sit in reserved, angry silence.

"Please understand, I wish you no malice, princess." he assures in a serious tone. "But it would seem you and I have a common goal."

I scoff indignantly. "And what could I _possibly_ have in common with an underhanded snake like you?"

He lowers his tone. "The desire to see Drekell Blood-Drainer's head roll.."

This gives me pause. He is not wrong. I desperately want Drekell's blood on my sword, as much as crops need water and the sun needs a sky in which to reside. Yes, that's a more accurate way of describing how I feel. I _need_ him dead. My soul will not rest until this is so.

I sit back, leveling my gaze with the stranger. The one who holds my fate in his hands. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why?" I say callously.

He smirks. "You catch on quickly." Placing the apple back on its plate, he leans toward me and claps his hands together. "All you need to know is that we can help each other immensely. And if you assist me, I will not breathe a word of you to the Thalmor."

A strange request, to be sure. Why blackmail me into something I already intended to do?

"Well, I don't really have a choice, do I?"

He seems amused by my response. "That's the spirit!" With this, he stands and turns to go. "I will be back for you at daybreak. Rest well, we've a long way to go, and not much time to travel."

"And can I determine your name is as unpleasant as your personality?" I inquire sarcastically, sitting up straight.

"They call me Lenier," he replies with a knowing grin. "Len for short."

Where have I heard this name before? I know it, yes. In fact, I know it _well_.

Just as he reaches the door and ducks into the night, my eyes widen to the size of saucers. Like a swift punch to the gut, suddenly I realize _exactly_ who I am dealing with.

Former leader of the Companions.

The Dragonborn.


	3. 3 - A Reluctant Partnership

**Chapter 3 - A Reluctant Partnership**

"We're lost. I _knew_ this would happen!" Gripping the reins of my horse in one hand and massaging my temples exassperatedly with the other, I turn an annoyed glare on Ren.

"We are not lost," he counters, his fierce eyes intently scanning the frayed map for what must be the thousandth time in twenty minutes. Rolling my eyes, I drop my hand and take to petting my mount. He's a beige steed, as loyal as he is beautiful, with strong, rippling muscles, a creamy mane, and almond eyes. Ren gave him to me whenever we started this fruitless trek into the Rift's wilderness. His name is Frost, and I have formed a fast attachment to him.

"Let's just make camp for the night and deal with our 'directional complication' tomorrow." I suggest, my eyes fixating upon the magenta horizon, which is quickly swallowing the daystar. "It will be dark within the hour, and we've been traveling since dawn."

Agreeing, Ren rolls up the aged parchment and secures it at his belt, then begins unloading his bedroll and the canvas for the tent. I unlatch my own whool roll and spread it out on the plush grass, meticulously smoothing out the blanket so that I do not have to look at Ren. While I am furious with him for blackmailing me into this crusade, I cannot say that his company is all that unpleasant. But perhaps these thoughts come from the phobia I've developed since Aiden's death. The paralyzing fear of being left alone. With a painful pang in my chest, I glance at my sapphire wedding ring and suppress the urge to cry.

As if sensing my sorrow, Frost nuzzles my hair gently. I smile at the small comfort and run my hand along his strong jawline. Ren has finished setting up the small, white tent and has started gathering wood for a fire. Standing once again, I unhitch my saddlebag and retrieve four brown packages from within. Tossing two to Ren's bedroll and keeping two for myself, I have a seat and begin unwrapping the fresh goat cheese and bread. Ren soon joins me in eating, which serves to placate both of our tempers - I have often found that hunger makes one most disagreeable.

"What's the plan of action now?" I inquire, sipping on a bottle of Black-Briar Reserve. "I think it is safe to say that this lead has run cold. Perhaps we should head north, to Windhelm, and ask around there? Eastmarch and the Plains seem to be a hive of activity for vampires."

Seeming to mull this over, Ren finished his bread. "Alright, Lily. We'll try this your way." he resigns, uncorking a bottle of mead. Scowling, I press the cap firmly back into place on my own bottle and store it in my bag once again. "Do not call me that." I say through barred teeth. "My name is Calla."

"Have I struck a nerve?" An amused smile plays along his lips, which lights a burning desire to carve it off of his face within my very soul. "Deal with it."

Hands curling into fists, I narrow my eyes and swing up into Frost's saddle. "Go sit on a Riekling spear." I spit viciously before riding off to find some sort of serenity among the flustered fury Ren seems so talented at bringing out of me. Never will I admit this, but deep down, some part of me really enjoys it.

/.../

And so our search leads us to a small mining settlement along the river called Darkwater Crossing. According to the inn keeper at Candlehearth Hall, vampires had torn this place apart mere days ago, and rumor had it that the wretches involved were part of Drekell's band. As we ride in, I can scarcely contain my lunch at the horrid sight. Blood. So much blood..

Bodies lie motionless among the wreckage of what clearly used to be a campsite. Crimson smears stain everything, disembodies limbs are cast aside on the shore, and the smell of death nearly chokes me. I glance at Ren - he is stone faced and grim. How can he be so composed? I am a Companion, and even I can barely stomach this slaughter show. Then again, I suppose as Dragonborn he has seen many a scene like this..

"Calla," he says sharply, hopping off of his black mare. I follow his gaze and in an instant, I'm at his heels, heading for a dilapidated, torn tent that has seen better days. Crimson spatters run all across the pale canvas, churning my stomach. The stench of copper is heavy in the air. Ren crouches down and starts clearing away debris, and soon I know his motive. A tiny foot is soon uncovered, and that is all I need to start digging with him. Dirt, branches, torn sheets, and splintered wood are soon cleared away to reveal a small body in a ripped frock with golden hair and skin paler than even my own.

Ren wastes no time in checking for a pulse. "Faint, but still there." he confirms, gathering the child up into his arms. "Get one of the healing potions from my saddle." In an instant, I'm on my feet and running to the horses. After a split second of fumbling with the straps on Ren's bag, I've retrieved the slender bottle. But upon returning to him, I notice that something isn't right about the little girl. She's as cold as ice, and ashen with the complexion of death, and yet I can see her small chest weakly rising and falling. She obviously needs help, so why am I hesitant?

And then I see it.

Two puncture wounds, even circles at the base of her neck.

I slowly begin to back away, my eyes widening. "Ren - her throat."

"Who cares? Give me that elixir!" he replies, reaching out. But I do not comply. How can I? How can I knowingly save a vampire's life, when the blood-sucking monstrosity that _took_ Aiden's life certainly didn't think twice about doing so?

Ren glares incredulously at me. "Calla, she's a _child_!" he snaps vehemently.

But is she?

Never have I been so conflicted. Half of me hates every single vampire in Tamriel, and wishes them nothing but slow, burning deaths. The other half of me sees that this is only a little girl who's been through hell. But then, I also know that she isn't an ordinary little girl. Nor will she ever be again. Is it right to even consider her a person anymore?

Biting my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, I make one of the hardest choices of my life.

Crouching beside her, I coax the girl's mouth open and pour the healing potion down her throat, ensuring that she swallows it. A beat of crippling uncertainty passes, and the girl's breathing evens out. To my relief, her eyes flutter open, wide and scared. I can almost see the terror of her last conscious moment. Had she been awake when bitten? I shudder to think..

"Are you okay?" Ren inquires, in a tone softer than I've yet to hear from him. "What's your name?"

"H-Hrefna.." she shakily replies, her golden eyes moving from me to Ren. "Who are you people?"

"I'm Calla, and this is Ren," I say soothingly, attempting my best maternal tone. "You're safe now. Can you tell us what happened here?"

Nodding, Hrefna sniffles and sits up. "Th-they came in the middle of the night. I was sleeping when I heard my momma scream.. They looked like people, but with really sharp teeth." Her voice breaks with a small sob. "They killed everyone..t-tore them apart. I hid in the tent, but one of them found me."

I can guess what events took place after that. Hrefna begins crying at the memory of what is probably the most traumatic thing she's ever experienced, and Ren looks absolutely lost. When his eyes meet mine desperately, I do only what feels natural; take the girl into my arms and hug her securely. "It's alright now," I promise. "We won't let anything else happen to you."

I have heard of an orphanage in Riften, but I'm not certain Hrefna can be free among other people yet. Aiden spent years studying the foul creatures, and among the many journals he kept, one fact remained consistent: Fledglings' hunger was by far the most dangerous aspect of the vampires. I'm sure we will have to deal with that at some point, but right now I just cannot bring myself to leave her here. I glance up at Ren, my expression conveying my loss at what to do. But already an answer is brewing in his eyes. He knows that we can't stay in Skyrim with her. Our hunt for Drekell will have to wait.

"You mentioned Rieklings earlier, princess," Ren says evenly. I nod, as if his statement needs confirmation. "Ever been to Solstheim?"

/./

 **Chapters will now be uploaded every other week, on Thursday afternoon. Thank you for being patient in the development of this story, as the past few months have been very busy for me. Updates will be on a set schedule now, however, so the wait won't be nearly as long. Don't forget to read and review, loves!**

 **~Saphira**


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